


Tell It To My Heart

by paperscribe



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-08 17:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperscribe/pseuds/paperscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lewis and Hathaway have mysterious encounters with the same strange man at two different pubs.  The next day, when they wake up, things have changed...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell It To My Heart

It was, Hathaway thought, a night for getting properly pissed. And that was what he was doing. Ordinarily, he might've asked Lewis if he fancied a pint, but when he was feeling particularly self-pitying, it didn't seem a good idea to invite his work superior. Separation of work life from home life and all that. Not that this was home.

A dark-haired man slid onto the stool next to him. Hathaway glanced at him to see if he was anyone familiar--he wasn't--and then carried on drinking.

***

Lewis was ordinarily in a much better mood than this, but for whatever reason, today had a sort of melancholy to it nothing would cure. So he'd gone down the pub in an attempt to drown it, while avoiding anywhere he knew Hathaway might be likely to be.

It wasn't that he wouldn't have appreciated the other man's company. He would have, and it probably would've broken him out of what Hathaway would have called existential flu. But tonight Lewis didn't want to be made cheerful. He just wanted to go quietly legless and not bother with anything else.

A dark-haired stranger sat beside him. "Rough day?"

Lewis shrugged. 

The bloke looked round. "Where are your mates?"

Lewis pointed at himself. "Right here."

***

"Not here," Hathaway said. Ordinarily he wouldn't have bothered with someone next to him, but he was disposed to be amiable at the moment.

"Surely you must be here with someone?" the stranger asked.

Hathaway shook his head. "Although I've been informed by a reliable witness that I need a partner." He couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice. "As though I could order one to be delivered by post."

"Would you? If you could?"

Hathaway rotated his glass between his hands. "Dunno. Maybe. But only if they could give me exactly what I wanted."

"What's that?"

Hathaway laughed. "Sorry, even I'm not drunk enough for that."

***

"That's the difficult bit," Lewis said quietly. "I haven't always been alone. So I know what it's like not to be."

"You miss it," the man said.

Lewis nodded.

"Would you want to be with someone again if you could?"

"Don't be stupid. Of course I would," Lewis said.

"Same bit? Married and all?"

"I loved being married," Lewis said. Which wasn't entirely an answer, but to him it was.

***

"Married." Hathaway let out a breathless laugh. "That would never happen."

"But if it could."

"Of course I'd take it then," Hathaway said, staring into his glass as though it could tell him the future. "If it were possible, of course I would." 

"Just wake up tomorrow and have it be true?"

Hathaway considered it. "Doesn't sound bad, does it?"

"No," the man said. "Would you want to remember how it was before, when you were alone?"

Hathaway nodded. "Then I'd know how lucky I was not to be."

***

"No," Lewis said. "Why bother to remember something like that?"

"It might make you a different person. Not remembering."

"Then I'd be a different person. No great loss to the world," Lewis said, sipping his drink.

"Well," the man said. "It's been very interesting talking to you."

Lewis snorted disbelievingly. "I'm sure it has."

***

"No, come on, aren't you going to have a drink?" Hathaway asked, attempting to be friendly at least.

"Not when I'm working," the man said, standing. "Thank you, though." He left.

Hathaway shrugged and turned back to his own endeavours. He'd had stranger conversations than that in pubs before.

***

Daylight shining in his eyes. Mmm. He was going to have to get up in a minute. But not now. Bed was so lovely and warm.

Warm like the person snuggled against him.

That jarred Hathaway out of sleep a bit more quickly. Someone was snuggled against him…arm draped across his torso. And Hathaway's arms were around the same someone. And that someone's head was resting on his chest.

Had he brought someone home? No…that was impossible. He remembered stumbling home from the pub alone and curling into a ball on the sofa. But this wasn't the sofa. This was a bed. With another person in it. And they were close as if they'd been intimate for ages, as if they'd been…what? Lovers?

Hathaway remembered the conversation with the strange man…how he'd probably shared far more than was prudent about how he didn't want to be alone anymore. But the man had gone. There had been no chance for anyone to drug his drink, either; Hathaway was incredibly careful about that now. But what had happened? What could have happened? The only answer Hathaway's mind could supply had to do with fairy godparents and wishes granted, and that was rubbish, wasn't it? This was a drunken exploit, not a granted wish.

Or…it should have been a drunken exploit, but Hathaway didn't feel as though he'd done any drinking at all. There was no headache, no strange taste in his mouth, no fuzzy thoughts; he was operating at full capacity.

Faced with something so completely inexplicable, Hathaway decided to open his eyes and see who was in bed with him at least. He opened one eye first, squinting awkwardly, and then the other. He could only see the man's face at an odd angle, but he would've known it from behind or above or any other possible angle. It was Robbie Lewis, sleeping soundly, arm stretched across Hathaway as though it belonged there.

"Oh," Hathaway whispered, too surprised to notice he was speaking aloud. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, then opened them again, and Robbie was still there. (He'd always called him Robbie in his head but had never dared to be on such familiar terms with him aloud. For fear of slipping, he'd never spoken his governor's first name once.)

This felt as though it were a wish granted. No one else had known…even Robbie had never known Hathaway had wanted this. And now he was lying here as though he belonged here. He did belong here. He must. He must have chosen this as well, somehow. Robbie wanted to be here, in his arms. In his bed. It was overwhelming and wonderful.

Robbie yawned, his hot breath tickling Hathaway's skin. Then Robbie lifted his head and gave Hathaway a fond look. Hathaway's own breath sputtered, and he thought wildly that if this were some sort of hallucination on his deathbed, they ought to let him die right now while he was this happy.

"Morning, Jamie," Robbie murmured.

Hathaway'd had precious few experiences of unabated joy in his life. This was one of them. "Jamie?"

Robbie smiled. "Unless you've changed your name in the night."

Hathaway couldn't help smiling in turn. "No. Still James."

"Good," Robbie said, snuggling against him. "Always been partial to that name."

"So have I," Hathaway whispered, arms instinctively moving more tightly round Robbie as though even they knew where they were meant to be.

Robbie gazed at him a moment. "What's that look?"

"What look?"

"Look as though you've never seen me before."

"Maybe I haven't," Hathaway said softly. "Maybe…every time it's new."

Robbie looked shy. Hathaway had never seen him look like that.

"Well," Robbie said, leaning in, "that gets you a kiss good morning."

Hathaway closed his eyes as their lips met, and even though it was meant to be a brief kiss, Hathaway found himself leaning after it when Robbie pulled away. There was so much tenderness and open affection in Robbie's expression, in his body language, and Hathaway could scarcely believe it was meant for him.

"You're lovely," Hathaway murmured.

Robbie was about to make some self-deprecating remark, but Hathaway touched his arm. "No. No denials. Not this morning."

Robbie gave him another shy look. "All right." 

From everything he'd observed, Hathaway thought he knew what this was, but…he had to see for himself. "Do I often tell you I love you?"

Robbie smiled, giving him another kiss. "All the time."

"Good," Hathaway whispered. "I wouldn't leave you wanting."

Robbie rested a hand on Hathaway's chest, rubbing gently. "You never leave me wanting."

Hathaway meant to say something, but his voice caught and he made a funny little sound instead.

Robbie pulled him into a hug. "Come here."

Hathaway wrapped his arms around Robbie, feeling…cherished. Cherished and loved. It wasn't a feeling he was used to, but he could get used to it so quickly, get used to this, need this. He needed it already, and he closed his eyes, resting his head on Robbie's shoulder.

Robbie pressed a kiss to James's temple, hand rubbing up and down his back. Hathaway didn't know what he'd done to earn something like this, but whatever it was, he hoped he would get to keep it a while before it went away. It was temporary, of course...it had to be...but for how long? A day? An hour? A week?

"Love you too, Professor," Robbie said warmly.

Hathaway chuckled at the pet name.

"No, now, that wasn't meant to be funny," Robbie chided him gently. "You'll be one soon enough."

"I…will?" Hathaway asked, pulling back to look at Robbie.

Robbie nodded. "Can't be a lecturer forever."

He was a lecturer? Not a police officer? "No, I…suppose not."

Robbie ran a hand down Hathaway's arm. "Do I get to hear your latest today? What's this week, Thomas Aquinas?"

Hathaway hadn't any idea. "Every week is Thomas Aquinas with me. I must have the notes somewhere."

"In your satchel, same as always," Robbie said fondly.

Hathaway nodded, but he didn't want to leave the room, in case all this vanished.

Robbie knew him well enough to read the silence. "What's wrong?"

"Did you…" Hathaway struggled to find the words. "Did you ever get something that was…that made you so happy you were afraid it might disappear?"

Robbie touched Hathaway's cheek with his fingertips. "You know the answer to that." He kissed Hathaway's cheek. "We can leave Aquinas for now. I'll make breakfast if you like."

"You make breakfast?" The words slipped out before Hathaway could check them.

Robbie only laughed. "I've had time to learn since I retired, haven't I?"

He'd retired. Well, if this was a fantasy granted, Hathaway wouldn't have to worry about Robbie's safety here.

Hathaway smiled. "Yes, please."

Robbie left the bed, slipping on a robe. "I'll call you when it's ready."

"Thanks." 

Once Robbie had gone, Hathaway was free to examine their room…to explore the evidence of a life lived together. There were a few photographs of them scattered round the room, on holiday and various other places, and in every one of them, Hathaway was smiling as though he'd just won the Nobel Prize. Hathaway couldn't remember ever having seen a photo of himself where he was smiling like that.

On the table by Robbie's side of the bed, there was a black-and-white photograph of Hathaway, curled up in a window seat. He had a book in his lap but was looking pensively out of the window. Hathaway touched the glass, certain that Robbie must have taken this photo…and it was clearly precious to him.

"That's the one I used to have on my desk at work," Robbie said from the doorway. "I think it's my favourite one of you."

Hathaway turned to look at him. "Not one with us together?"

"Said it was my favourite one of you, not of us," Robbie said with an answering smile. "Meant to ask, do you want strawberries on your waffles?"

"If we've got them," Hathaway said. "Thank you."

Robbie nodded and returned to the kitchen. Hathaway looked back at the picture, which he was still touching, and for the first time, he noticed the ring on his left index finger. A wedding ring. For a moment, his breath caught, and he stared at it, the word married echoing in his mind over and over again.

Hathaway took another look round the room. This was theirs…their place. And they were clearly happy here.

If he got to stay, he would be happy here too.

***

Robbie had just closed the waffle maker when he felt James's arms slip round him. He smiled and leaned back into the embrace; James must be feeling affectionate today. Robbie liked those days.

"I can't believe," James said, "you're making me waffles."

"If waffles are enough to surprise you, I'll see what happens tomorrow with omelettes," Robbie joked.

James's body was suddenly still against his. Robbie turned so he could see James. "What is it?"

"What would you do if today were all we had?" James asked quietly.

Robbie felt chilled. "What do you mean?" He pressed a hand to James's forehead--no temperature. But of course…if he was talking about there not being any tomorrows… "Are you ill? Is it serious?"

"Sorry?" James looked startled. "No, I'm not ill."

Robbie sighed, leaning against him a moment. "Don't frighten me like that."

James gave him a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry."

Robbie gave him a sharp look. "Warn me next time before you throw one of your hypothetical questions at me."

"I will. I promise." James ran his fingers lightly over the material of Robbie's robe. "I just…feel so lucky to have this. That's all I meant."

"I know," Robbie said softly. "So do I." He slipped his arms round James's waist. "I plan on having you for a long while. So don't you plan anything else."

James nodded. "That sounds fair. No plans."

James must be a bit melancholy, or maybe reflective. Robbie had learnt to weather James's changes of mood and to provide whatever was needed. Time was good for that…they'd had years already and, with a bit of luck, would have many more.

Robbie leant in and kissed him. "Now. If we're talking about plans for today, I intend to hear your lecture and spend the day doing whatever you'd like."

James had a look of mischief in his eyes. "That's a dangerous offer."

Robbie shrugged. "I know what I'm doing. Police and all that."

James leant in and kissed him. His kisses felt…different. Almost as they had felt when the two of them had first come together…urgent and frightened and hopeful all at once. Maybe he was feeling fragile…breakable. Robbie could be careful.

"I trust you," James whispered, and it was the most vulnerable thing Robbie had ever heard him say.

"I know, Jamie," Robbie whispered back. He kissed him gently. "I have to see to the waffles or they'll be tough enough to use as door scrapers."

James reluctantly let him go. Yes…Robbie would have to take extra care of him today. 

But it would be Robbie's pleasure.

***

It was an ordinary day in the life of a married couple. Perhaps that was what was so special about it. They had breakfast; they went round the shops for a few things; Hathaway practised his lecture (which was indeed about Thomas Aquinas), and Robbie praised it much more than it deserved.

Hathaway had to remind himself constantly to soak in all this, to retain everything he could of it. He didn't know why he was so sure that this would come to an end at the end of the day. Maybe he didn't trust happiness, didn't believe it would last. Or maybe there was some sort of warning built into the day that he had and Robbie didn't, for whatever reason. He could be wrong. He'd be happy to be wrong.

When they were snuggled together in bed at the end of the day, Hathaway whispered, "Today was perfect."

Robbie sounded as though he were smiling. "I'm glad."

Hathaway closed his eyes as Robbie stroked his hair. "I love you."

"Love you too," Robbie said quietly. "I always will."

Hathaway felt a pang of sadness. No. Maybe not always. But I hope so.

"So will I," he said.

Robbie kissed his forehead. "Rest now. I'll see you in the morning."

Hathaway hoped that was true. He pressed closer, eyes fluttering shut.

It was easy to sleep in Robbie's arms.

***

Lewis was awakened by a frantic pounding on the door, which was matched by a slightly less frantic pounding in his head. Muttering under his breath, he worked his way out of bed and trudged to the door.

Hathaway was standing outside, breathing hard, a worried look in his eyes.

"Did you run here?" Lewis asked, blinking at the other man.

Hathaway started guiltily. "I might've done."

Lewis sighed, shaking his head. "Jamie."

The word, the name, escaped him before he'd known he was going to say it, and with that name came…oh. He remembered. He remembered. That bloke in the bar, and then that one day of getting everything he'd asked for…everything he'd wanted...

Hathaway took a step forward, arms taut at his sides, nearly shaking with the effort of holding them in place. "Robbie?"

"Yesterday," Lewis said. "It wasn't a dream, was it? And you were there?"

Hathaway nodded. "I was."

Lewis gestured him inside. "Don't just stand there."

Hathaway paced back and forth across the flat. "I didn't know if you'd remember."

Lewis did remember, and it was all he could do not to cross the room and throw himself at Hathaway and hold him and… "I do."

"So do I," Hathaway said. His shoulders hunched further forward. "Now what?"

"You think I know?" Lewis asked, trying to sound angry and not quite succeeding. "I've never done this…" His voice trailed away, and he shook his head. "James, please, you need to tell me if it's all right to touch you, because I want to hang on and never let go."

Hathaway crossed the room in three steps and wrapped Lewis in a strong hug. Lewis tried not to melt into the hug and made a bad job of it.

"I suppose we know what to do about this," Hathaway said softly.

"Maybe you do," Lewis said, embracing Hathaway…James…in turn. 

"Ducunt volentem fata, nolentem trahunt," Hathaway said.

"In English we say what?"

"'The fates lead the willing and drag the unwilling,'" Hathaway said. "Seneca. I think we may have been either led or dragged."

Lewis considered the idea. Some bloke in a bar, one of the fates? Another day, he might've scoffed at that, but another day he wouldn't have had an extra day's memories in his head.

"I can live with that," Lewis said, leaning against Hathaway, "if you can."

Hathaway pressed his lips against Lewis's forehead. "I don't think I'll have a problem."


End file.
